Persuasion-The Prequel
by blacknotebook
Summary: Sort of what I think really happened eight and a half years before the events in Persuasion.


Persuasion-the Prequel

A/N-This isn't actually a prequel, just a little story of what really happened eight and a half years before the book. I realize that Frederick was not actually with the Musgroves, but the book didn't make it clear how Frederick and Anne met and managed to court, so I decided that this was best.

_Set on a tree lined path on the grounds of the Musgroves. _

Miss Anne Elliot and Mr. Frederick Wentworth were making their way down the path slowly, until they were out of sight of Henrietta and Charles Hayter, who were also along the path. It was a fine afternoon, and the young people had gone out for a stroll before supper was called. Once they were satisfied that they were sufficiently out of sight and out of mind, they one another's hand and ran to the cover of a willow at the end of the lane, laughing the whole while. Mr. Wentworth laid his coat upon the ground and led Anne to sit upon it. He joined her, keeping polite distance though no one would have seen them beneath the boughs of the tree had they been passing within an arms length. 

They sat there, talking and listening, but most of all, feeling. They felt all sorts of things that come but rarely and they rejoiced in it. Frederick lay with his back against the trunk with Anne leaning against his arm. He drew her close to him and kissed her forehead. Her head spun with the sudden emotions this brought on. They lay there for time immeasurable, for it went both incredibly slow, and yet unbearably quickly which is the case with all who are in love. He fondled with a bracelet on her wrist and she reveled in the touch of his hand. Soon, he sat up, removing her from his chest. She looked at him inquiringly. He spoke, his voice choked with emotion.

"Anne, you know how I feel about you. You must know that I love you." She lowered her head, her cheeks red with embarrassment and her own feelings. "And so, I was wondering, nay I was wishing that you might accept my hand in marriage and become my wife." His eyes, which until now had been studying a piece of grass raised and met her own hopefully. She smiled shyly at him. 

"Yes." She uttered quietly, "Yes." Mr. Wentworth was so overcome with emotion that he kissed her quickly just then, and she was so shocked that she did nothing. He drew back, and said; "I… I'm quite sorry, that was wrong of me. I should have asked you beforehand. I really do-" He was cut short in his speech because Anne had fully recovered now from the shock, and decided she liked the kiss so very much that she wished for another one. This one lasted significantly longer than the first, and was more enjoyed. They soon heard Henrietta and Charles coming down the lane calling for them and slipped out and acted as though they were examining some of the wild flowers by the tree. 

They then joined the other couple as they set up the path for supper, their hands intertwined very discreetly. Both were so overcome with joy that neither ate much but gave each other discreet intimate glances when the others became engrossed in the conversation of whether Bath or Bristol was the better spot for a summer holiday. Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove were adamantly set on Bristol while Henrietta, Louisa and Charles desperately tried to relate to them the wonder that is Bath. The happy couple of which it is my pleasure to be talking of took no part in this utterly pointless conversation, nor wanted any. 

That night they parted quietly without any show of what had passed under the willow tree. Anne's soul was singing as she entered her home at Kellynch, though she was not greeted with the grace she was equal to. Her two sisters did not inquire as to how her evening had gone but instead launched into an exclusive discussion over the dresses of their acquaintance that night. It seemed to Anne that Ms Dennys had not lived up to her reputation and had worn a dress that was "completely unbefitting to a woman of her age". She didn't listen to any more of this, and went up to bed, completely content. 

The next morning Anne awoke feeling incredibly happy and for a moment almost to fast to count, she could not remember why, but immediately afterwards, she did, and was so joyous that she would have sung had she not been so shy. She dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. They had an early visitor, and Anne was pleased to find that it was her good friend Lady Russell. After they had eaten, Anne drew Lady Russell into one of the small sitting rooms that Elizabeth, Mary and Sir Walter never used. 

Lady Russell noticed Anne's cheerful manner and asked, "What is it dear? Why are you so happy?" Anne smiled so broadly she thought she must look like an idiot. But she didn't care. "Mr. Wentworth, you know him from dinner, he's proposed to me, and I have accepted!" Her heart swelled in her chest and she thought she should burst. Lady Russell on the other hand had other feelings.  Her Anne, who she had so hoped for a strong marriage, had decided to marry a navy man. This was most unacceptable. This Mr. Wentworth had not even attained any rank of consequence. She decided she would try to ascertain how far gone the situation was. With luck, she would be movable enough.

"Anne dearest, are you sure this is wise?" Anne looked up at her puzzled. "Wise? Why wouldn't it be wise?" Ah, thought Lady Russell, you are making this too easy and too painful. "Well, how will he provide for you? He could have bad luck and his ship could sink, or be captured, and where would you be then? One must consider these things dear, before making any rash decisions." Anne face, which before had been rosy and glowing with the happiness of love, became clouded with worry and doubt. After some contemplation she said, "Fre- Mr. Wentworth is a wonderful sailor, I am sure that he would not have these problems. He, he has said that his captain likes him very well indeed and he expects to be promoted very soon." Lady Russell already had her arguments ready for this one. "But Anne, could it be possible that your Mr. Wentworth has mistaken the extent of his captains regard for him. One must not bet ones future on guesses." Anne was truly troubled now. She had not thought of this. Lady Russell could see Anne working out the scenarios in her head; her face getting more distressed every second. Lady Russell truly did feel sorry for Anne, but she felt this was for the best. Eventually Anne would see that she had been right in breaking the engagement, and would find someone else to be happier with. Some one rich, not too far away, Lady Russell thought dreamily. Eventually, Anne spoke again and said, "This-this is a lot to think about. If you would excuse me, I am going on a walk." She got up abruptly and left Lady Russell without another word. If Lady Russell had not known Anne for so long, and the amount of stress she was undergoing, she would have been very offended. But she was not, and she left very soon after Anne, not even bothering to take leave of Sir Walter.        

Anne walked upon the paths around Kellynch, not seeing where she was going, her conversations with Frederick and Lady Russell playing alternately over in front of her eyes. She did not know what to do. Oh, she loved Frederick, she loved with a love so pure it was unimaginable, but she also loved Lady Russell. She thought of Lady Russell as her mother, since her own true mother had died. And weren't mothers supposed to provide council for their daughters on these matters? Oh, the state in which Anne was now was most unenviable. Caught between her "mother" and her love, she was trying to decide what to do. She paced the grove of trees for well over an hour, more than once losing her nerve and breaking down in tears.

She knew what she must do. She did not like it, having to hurt the person dearest to her, but she could see no other way. She resolved to tell him that night at supper at the Musgroves. Her heart broke. This was the night they had agreed upon to tell their friends of their engagement. 

Oh Christ. What am I doing? I love him. I love him. How odd it is to be able to say those words with the knowledge that they are not unanswered. But here I am going off to break his heart as well as my own. Lord. But Lady Russell is correct. It would be better this way. Any number of things could happen. And if he was killed at sea, I would be heartbroken still, but also without friends or fortune to fall back upon. And then what would become of me? Oh Lord, the things we go through.

*****

_That night at the Musgrove's_

            Anne stepped from the carriage she had managed to obtain use of from her father (Lord knows how) and told the driver to pick her up around ten o'clock. She was in no state of mind to stay there for longer than was polite. She braced herself for the evening to come. She had no idea how she was going to do this. Does anyone ever have any idea how to do a thing like this? I think not.

            She walked up the path to the front door of the Great House. He looked up at it, and unfortunately, saw Mr. Wentworth smiling at her from one of the terraces above. He ran from it, eager to meet her. She hurried to the common room where she could engross herself in the conversations of others. Unfortunately, Mr. Wentworth caught her before she was able to escape. 

"Come with me," he whispered into her ear as he "helped" her take of her coat. Anne's knees turned to jelly and found it very hard to remember how to walk. Mr. Wentworth, however, helped her in that department by taking her arm and guiding her to one of the drawing rooms away from the rest of the house. She sat on one of the couches while Frederick paced in front of her. After a few moments of going back and forth across the small room, he spoke.

"I fear I did not um, properly er, ask you um, what I did. Anyhow, I have decided to retry." He kneeled in front of her.

"Frederick-" He cut her off by placing his finger on her lips.

"I know you already said yes," Thinking this is what she was to have said, "but I want to do this properly." He looked earnestly into her eyes, his own deep brown ones. "I love you Anne. And I am asking you with all my heart to become my bride. Oh dear God! What is the matter!? Have I said something?"  She was openly weeping before him. He drew her close, stroking her hair in an attempt to make her stop crying. "Shh. Shhh. It's okay. I love you. It's okay." Those words set her off even more. She drew herself from him, reluctantly but surely. 

"Frederick. You, you know, that I, that I care about you." His wonderful, deep brown eyes were confused and somewhat hurt at her mild words. "I care about you. But, I…I can't marry you. Oh, God I'm so sorry! Please, don't hate me." She whispered these last words. He was standing before her now, having dropped her hands at  her words. He was pacing in front of her, fury growing in his face.

"Why! Why, if you, _care _about me. Hwy can't you marry me? Can you tell me that?"

"I can't. Please Frederick." She was crying again. He didn't notice.

"Oh, you can't tell me hmm? Did you wake up this morning and say "Oh, I don't think I love him anymore. I guess I'll just let him off easy." Was that it?" " No! Please don't do this Frederick." 

"Oh, well, you said please so I suppose that it's okay. I'll just go downstairs and pretend like nothing's happened. I'll just pretend that the woman I love more than anything hasn't broken the engagement and left me broken hearted. Maybe I'll play cards with Charles and we can joke like we did before. Why can't I know why? I think I deserve at least that much!" She stood, facing him, her tear stained face turned to his own. She could see his eyes glistening with tears. God, she thought. Look what I've done. I've just hurt him more than I ever could have imagined. She closed her eyes. 

"I…It wouldn't work. There's to many risks."

"Risks?! I talk of love and you talk of risks! God Anne! The risks are so few its not worth it to count them!"

"You could die, or we could lose all the money or…" Her arguments suddenly sounded feeble and small without Lady Russell reassuring their importance. 

"Or you would be cut off from the society you have known? Is that it? You would be marrying beneath you?"

"No! No!" This was indeed the least of her worries, if it ranked among them at all.

"The risks you speak of are very small, and are there in every marriage. Please Anne, please listen to reason." He too was crying now. His voice was small, and pleading.

"I'm so sorry." He stiffened under the touch of her hand on his arm.

"Sorry? How is sorry going to help me? Is "sorry" going to make me fall out of love with you, or you fall back in love with me?" She began to protest that she did still love him. He cut her off. 

"Just one thing" he said. Suddenly he grabbed her in his arms. He pulled her close, and kissed her. He put all of his anger, and his love into that kiss. His lips caressed hers, gently, massaging a response from her own. She soon did, kissing him back without really knowing what she was doing. They broke apart when the need for air became apparent, both gasping and looking at each other. Anne panicked. She knew that with one more kiss like that; she wouldn't have the nerve to leave him ever again. So she ran.

            She ran all the way to her carriage in the carriage drive where the driver was sleeping on the bench. She woke him up rather roughly, but when he saw her tear streaked face and red eyes, he opened the door for her quickly and they drove off to Kellynch. 

            Mr. Wentworth took his time collecting himself and breaking most of the small, unnoticed objects in the study. The Musgroves would be needing a new supply of pen quills very soon. But he recovered enough to go down to dinner and act civilly if need be. He went into the dining hall and seated himself in one of the chairs near the middle, next to Charles and Henrietta, hoping to be lost in their conversation, not needing to think. Thinking would kill him at the moment. At least Anne had left. But it did not seem that he could escape her even when she wasn't there.

"Where's Miss Anne Elliot?" Charles asked Henrietta, leaning across Frederick.

"Mary, one of our maids, saw her leaving awhile ago. She said that she did not look well. I suppose she took sick." 

"That is too bad. She's such a nice girl. I do hope she gets better. I say Frederick; you've been with her an awful lot lately. How are you finding her? I've always thought she was the best of the three sisters."

"Charles! You should not speak so!" Frederick was glad for the intervention of a lady's manner in this case, as it saved him from speaking of Anne.

"So sorry. What do you think of a picnic on the bluff tomorrow Miss Musgrove?"

"I would love too." The conversation veered off in this direction and Mr. Wentworth was left to his thoughts. After dinner he retired to his room. He had decided to leave the following day. He could not survive being within ten miles of her.

            Anne went upstairs to her room, for once grateful of her family's inattentiveness. She dressed into her nightgown and crawled into bed, waiting for sleep to overtake her. But the night was not so kind. She was kept awake by images of him, and the feel of that last kiss. She cried herself to sleep as dawn broke over the horizon.

            Little did she know, Frederick spent his night in much the same fashion, but without falling asleep. He packed, and left quite early, leaving a letter saying that his sister was sick and her had to attend to her.

They would not meet again for another eight and a half years.


End file.
